Author's Notes

Ok, it's been a while since an update, I have to admit. (Yeah, alright, best part of a year.) That crazy thing known as life kinda got in the way; changing jobs (several times), being ill (a lot) and just plain uninspired to write and no time to do it in anyway. So, here we are at long last, a short chapter to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy!

And a HUGE THANK YOU goes out to Evil Spapple Pie who has stepped in to Beta for me. You are a life saver!

Chapter Seven: Aftershock

Above the sleepy village of Helmsley, dawn was breaking. The soft dusty yellow and pink of the sunrise gave way to a morning-glory blue sky, resplendent in the passing of the night's storm.

A wave of sunlight swept across the land, chasing away the shadows, and highlighting the sparkling beads of dew on the swaying grass. The sun cleared the horizon and began its ascent into the sky, sending beams of light lancing in through the windows of the little cottage situated some distance from the village.

One such beam caught Diane square in the face. She winced in her sleep and rolled over. Casting an arm out, her mind registered the absence of her husband, and it was this that roused her.

Squinting and stifling a yawn, Diane sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

'Julian?' she only just managed to articulate through a yawn. 'What …'

Abruptly, she stopped.

Her eyes widened in horror as recollections of the night before came flooding back like a tidal wave, jolting her fully awake. Turning to stare out of the window, it was a few moments before she was able to comprehend why the storm that she had been watching was no longer there.

Almost ripping her sleeve, Diane fumbled for her watch and looked at the time. The distant crowing of a rooster on the nearby farm was enough to confirm it.

Vaulting off the bed, Diane was not even slightly aware of the fact that she'd fallen asleep in her clothes and they were now badly rumpled and creased. Nor that her beautiful hair was in an equally terrible state. The dark circles under her eyes showed just how little sleep she'd actually had, and how restless it had been.

But Diane had no time to spare for such trivial matters. There was only one thought on her mind.

Remus.

Half stumbling down the staircase, Diane hurried around the corner and to the passage that led to the cellar. It was then that she drew up short.

Lying slumped against the wall was Julian.

Judging by his haggard grey face, it was obvious that Julian had not long given in to sleep. His wand was held limply in his hand, a spell book about to slide off his lap.

Diane stood there looking at him for a moment, her heart aching. Loath though she was to wake him, she knew that neither of them could afford the luxury of rest just yet. The moon had long since set.

Dropping to her knees, Diane reached out and shook his shoulder.

'Julian?'

A soft groaning mumble was her only response.

'Julian … Julian …'

With a sleepy grunt, the wizard opened his eyes, gazing blearily about him, half consciously gripping his wand.

'Huh? … wha …'

'It's only me,' whispered Diane, gently laying a hand over his wand before he inadvertently cast a spell. 'The storm's over … it's morning.'

At these words, Julian's eyes achieved some focus and he stared at his wife.

'But – '

Together they turned to look at the locked door at the end of the passage.

Struggling to his feet, Julian raised his wand. With a few counter-spells, the shields and barriers fell. Then Julian pointed to the lock.

'Alohomora!'

-o-

Barely an hour ago, the moon had faded from the sky and set in motion the transmutation from werewolf back to human. It was at that exact point that Remus became fully aware once more. The sensation did not feel remotely like that of the smooth transition from sleep into wakefulness; for Remus had been trapped in a waking nightmare all night long and it wasn't finished yet.

What felt like a swarm of red-hot needles pricking his skin was the first hint of the change. The wolf growled and squirmed helplessly on the floor, pawing at its muzzle, unable to shake off the feeling. Wounds on the animal's haunches, legs and face were a terrible array of scratches, bites and cuts. Shards of glass were embedded into several deep cuts that stung as the creature moved. Raising its head, the wolf weakly made an attempt to ease its growing discomfort, licking away the half congealed blood matting the fur on its huge paws. But it made little difference, for it was lying in a dark pool of its own blood, smeared across the cold flagstones.

A dull throbbing in its head was mounting rapidly and it was this that Remus could feel clearly, the first sensation he could feel as his own since the wolf's ferocious nature had dominated his during the transformation.

But Remus had still been aware.

Everything that the werewolf had done, Remus had watched through new eyes, smelt with a new nose … tasted with his new tongue … felt with his own body …

And now, his mind touched the wolf's as it receded; leaving Remus with a body that was slowly changing shape once more.

Remus opened his jaws and let out a weak, pitiful moan as all the pain the wolf had inflicted became his own. The stinging cuts, the weeping sores and the sheer exhaustion.

Then the change truly began.

Too weak to even try and fight it as he had done last night, Remus slumped to the floor, giving in to the blinding pain as his skeleton reformed, his organs shifted sickeningly and the fur drew back into his skin.

Closing his eyes, Remus began to cry. Salty tears streamed down his misshapen face, dripping off his furry cheeks to mingle with the dark red pool in which he lay.

The pain reached a crescendo as the last vestiges of the wolf disappeared, sending a wave of agony washing over him from head to foot.

It was over.

His head swimming, breathing in the coppery smell of blood, Remus slowly opened his eyes and gazed blearily across the floor to the weak ray of sunlight as it gradually permeated the gloom through the murky window. But Remus wasn't truly seeing it.

All he could see was everything that the werewolf had done.

Everything that he had done.

Remus' small naked body started to quiver, shivering with the cold. The open wounds were weeping and dark bruises were blossoming on the pale white skin. Yet Remus didn't know they were there. He was finally beyond feeling anything.

-o-

A short while later, his parents found him.

-o-

Wrapped up in thick blanket and laying curled up on the sofa, Remus avoided his mother's gaze as she tenderly washed his wounds. Tears ran unhindered down Diane's deathly pale face. Using a soft, clean cloth and a mild solution of camomile and witch-hazel, she dabbed at the open sores, carefully removing bits of dirt and grime

Julian had already spent the best part of an hour painstakingly removing every shard of glass they'd found embedded into Remus' skin. Remus had flinched and cried throughout the ordeal, but had not uttered a single sound.

Julian was currently in the kitchen, brewing up a potion to help replenish the blood that Remus had lost during the night. Diane had been horrified at how much blood they'd discovered on the floor and over their son. The state he had been in …

Diane held back a sob with difficulty. Remus needed her to be strong, to help him through this. But she was at a loss for anything to say. If she dared to open her mouth she feared that all that would come out would be sobs and cries of how unfair it all was. Why him? Why Remus? Why her son? Why her family? What had they done to deserve this?

Diane gazed at her son through tear-filled eyes. But Remus would not look at her. Beyond a few whimpers and groans of pain when they had retrieved him from the cellar, Remus had not spoken. Though he had regained full consciousness, the child had just sat there, staring off into space, completely unresponsive.

'Remus?' Diane whispered tentatively.

Remus merely blinked slowly, his eyes fixed on the edge of the blanket.

Diane swallowed hard and tried again.

'Are you hungry, darling? I could make you some soup.'

Still nothing.

'How about chicken? It's your favourite.'

Remus turned his head slightly, turning away from her. Diane's heart ached. She could see that even that small movement was painful for him, but why turn away from her?

'Remus? Are you ok? Please talk to me …'

For half an hour Diane failed to coax any kind of response out her son. Finally, having cleaned the last of his wounds and bandaged them, she reluctantly left his side and went into the kitchen.

A small battered travelling cauldron was set up on the table, a bright purple potion simmering inside it. Julian was hunched over a chopping board, shredding some leaves and muttering under his breath as he repeatedly checked the book propped up in front of him.

He glanced over as his wife came in.

'How is he?'

Diane sighed and shook her head, fighting back tears.

'He won't talk to me,' she said, barely above a whisper. 'I – I don't know what to do … I want to help him but I don't know how …'

'Hey, hey …' Julian immediately abandoned the potion, crossed the room and drew his wife into a hug. Diane let out a shuddering cry and sobbed into his shoulder. Julian hushed her, gently rubbing her back. 'It'll be ok,' he said. 'We'll figure things out. Look, I'm working on several batches of this potion; it'll keep for six months so won't have to worry about brewing some more every few weeks.'

Diane sniffed and nodded. At least Julian was able to think clearly. Already he was planning ahead, trying to make things easier.

But it was just so hard at that moment to imagine how things would ever get easier.

-o-

Remus lay perfectly still, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Every part of his body ached. His wounds, though now clean and free of glass, stung from the cleansing solution and the dressing itched.

But the physical pain was nothing to what was haunting him at that moment.

In his minds eye, Remus could recall everything he'd done as the wolf. Howling … prowling the cellar … scenting his mother and –

Remus closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face and his heart crying out in anguish.

He'd wanted to kill her.

And he had been powerless to stop himself.

How could he ever look his mother in the face again? How could she possibly bring herself to love him when she knew that he would have killed her last night?

He didn't deserve to be helped.

He didn't even deserve to be alive.

The children of Sedburgh had been right about him all along.

He was a monster.

-o-

Author's Notes

Well, there you go. A short, uneventful chapter I'll admit but the pace will pick up soon enough.

Steph Silverstar – Thanks, I love descriptive writing, tend to put a fair amount of it into my fics.

Yoda – Long time, no write, my friend; hope to hear from you soon. Best fanfic writer ever? You are making me blush! Don't know if I really deserve that title given my lack of writing this past year, but fear not, I shall persevere with this fic and complete it!

Evil spapple pie – Again, many many thanks for stepping in as my Beta. Not to scare you or anything, but my idea of covering all seven of Remus' years at Hogwarts still stands. That'll be a lot of chapters by the time it gets finished. (Although I can promise that I don't intend to make them thirty odd chapters each!)

Miss Anonymous hp – Thanks, I hope you like the chapters to come!

PickledishkillerYes, I was sad I stopped writing too – just didn't have the time nor felt like writing for quite some time. Hope you'll continue to read as I fully intend to complete this fic.

JojoI apologise for not updating sooner. Several times I put on my bio I would and never did. I fibbed without intention. But it's here at last! And chapter eight is being worked on right now, so fear not, another update will emerge soon enough. Enjoy!